


The Blessed and the Damned

by catalinacat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Angst, Apocalypse, Destiel - Freeform, Doomed Relationship, F/M, Hopeful Ending, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:21:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catalinacat/pseuds/catalinacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You can't believe he's saying this. It feels so unreal, so surreal, to imagine that this is going to be over before it ever really got the chance to begin. That this Angel who has been in your life for one year, three months, and three days is leaving soon. That he won't be popping into your motel room without warning, scaring the shit out of you but all the while putting together the pieces of your heart that's been breaking since you were four years old.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blessed and the Damned

**Author's Note:**

> Goes AU mid-Season 4

The date is September 18, 2009, and you don’t even realize it until Castiel pulls some of his freaky time-warp-dream-state Angel shit and suddenly he’s standing there at the foot your bed staring at you; just staring, when only two seconds ago you were enjoying a very nice dream featuring Angelina Jolie, a tropical island, and one very wet t-shirt.

And that’s when you realize the significance of the eighteenth day of September in the year of our Lord two thousand and nine.

It hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you until you’re left gasping for breath.

In a flash, Castiel is by your side with a hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles up and down.

Only, that’s not really helping because those weird blinkandyoumissit moves that he does scares the shit out of you sometimes. Besides having him sit right next to you, feeling the warmth of his hand through your thin sleep shirt and his equally warm breath on your neck isn’t exactly doing worlds of good for your blood pressure.

But you don’t tell him that – you just sit there and relish in the comfort that always seems to radiate from Castiel, Angel of the Lord, and the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition exactly one year ago today.

You can’t decide whether that’s a bad or a good thing, that you forgot the day that changed everything.

With a frown, you realize that Sammy didn’t remember it either.

That seems like it should bother you, too, but it’s pretty difficult to be bothered by anything other than Castiel’s hands, which, at the moment, seem to be doing a lot less soothing and a lot more groping.

You lean into his embrace and let yourself _fallfallfall._

***

 

The date is September 19, 2009, and you wake up feeling happy and warm and sated, but when your hand sweeps out behind you it gets nothing but empty sheets and the room suddenly feels colder.

Sam wakes up soon after that and cocks an eyebrow at your disheveled state, but doesn’t say anything.

He’s gotten better with that lately.

After the initial fury – _he’s an_ Angel _, Dean, and don’t you think God’s got it out for us already?_ – and your admittedly cruel response – _I’d say God probably likes it a hell of a lot more than if I was fucking a demon_ – Sam had backed off.

Now he just kind of disappears whenever Castiel inexplicably shows up, and you’re reminded again why you love your brother so much; he might be an over-educated, snot-nosed, whiny brat, but he sure does know how to make himself scarce.

You head out to the car with a half smile still on your face, and if Sam notices you wince a bit when you sit down, he doesn’t call you out on it.

You appreciate that, too, but your smile starts to fade as you pull out of another nameless motel onto the blacktop road that is more your home than any house has ever been.

So Castiel came to you again. That’s good, of course.

Now it’s just the beginning of yet another waiting game – is he going to come back? Will I ever see him again? Will he even want to be with me if he _does_ come back?

For an instant you hate Castiel for making you feel like some fucked up pre-teen with her first crush, but then you remember the look on his face when he kissed your lips and practically worshipped your body, and the anger pretty much melts away.

It’s not like it’s his fault, anyways.

This whole thing you’ve got going on with a goddamn _angel_ is a wild, runaway train – you want to get away, jump off, but you’re just too afraid to fall.

So it’s full steam ahead now, and if it feels like there’s a fire in your belly every time you lay eyes on Castiel… well, maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all.

 

***

 

The date is October 6, 2009, and you have just laid to rest your seventeenth spirit in as many days.

You know Sam is worn to the bone, and you are too, if you’re going to be at all honest with yourself, but you have to keep going, can’t stop for a moment because if you do…

Well, you don’t really want to think about that just now, thanks.

Sam wants to ask, you can tell, but he doesn’t – another point for Sammy’s “I’m not _the_ most annoying little brother ever” count, because the last thing you want to talk about right now is Castiel and how you haven’t seen him in over two weeks.

_Fuck._

You have an idea now what it’s like for all those girls who slide you their number with a smile after a one-night stand with hope in their eyes, and you resolve never to do that again.

It’s fucking cruel and it hurts like hell.

Maybe that’s why your heart clenches even more than it should when the door to your motel room flies open without a knock and Castiel walks in like he owns the place.

Without a word, not even sparing a glance, Sam slips out of the room and runs off to wherever it is he goes during times like this.

_Thank you, little brother._

Castiel doesn’t say anything, not at first, but the look in his eyes speaks more than enough for the both of us.

_Lust. Pleasure. Pain. It’s all the same in the end._

You want so badly it hurts, but at the same time the hurt that’s already present is breaking you down from the inside out.

His gaze is calculating as he steps forward and pushes you lightly on the chest. His hand barely touches you – it’s just a tap, really – but you fall down onto the bed behind you like that damn freight train came through again.

He takes off his bloodstained coat with meticulous care, all the while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

It’s hot as hell, sure, but the way Castiel moves seems more to you like a predator stalking its prey than a lover coming to bed.

He loosens his tie, letting it fall to the ground and that’s when your voice returns to you.

“ _No._ ”

The hand working the buttons on his shirt stills and it’s like a vacuum just came and sucked all the air from the room because it’s suddenly stale and stifling.

You struggle to breathe but can’t seem to find the air, and that’s when your courage returns to you.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. But I’m drawing the line here, Castiel.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything for a long while, and it’s not until he turns away from you that he opens his mouth.

“Can I ask why?”

His voice is soft, gentle, understanding, and that makes this even harder than you want it to be.

“Because you’re no good for me, Cas. We have this-this _thing_ going on, but you’re a fucking _Angel_ and I’m a hunter – I lie, I cheat, I steal, I’ve been to goddamn _Hell_.”

At least Castiel turns around then, but he sits down hard in the one chair in the whole room and doesn’t look up to meet your eyes.

“And yeah, maybe this something has meant more than anything I’ve ever had, but I can’t stand getting close to someone when I don’t know when I’ll ever see them again. You know me, Castiel. You know I push people away for a reason; I get close and then they leave. That’s just the way the world works around me,” you say, and your voice is tired and haggard, finally showing the strain of the life you’ve been pushing yourself into.

Castiel does look up at that, staring at you like he can peel off every mask you’ve ever put on until it’s just _you_.

Not Dean Winchester, son of John and brother to Sam. Not Dean Winchester, the hunter who sold himself to the devil and spent four months – _forty years_ – in Hell. Not even Dean Winchester, broken son of Mary, the mother who was taken far before her time.

Just _you_ – whoever that is, because you’re not really sure, and it’s damn scary that Castiel seems to know more about you than you do.

Castiel stands up then, looking at you and playing with a fray on his cuff in a seemingly nervous gesture that you’ve never seen before.

“I understand, Dean. I truly do,” his voice is calm, but his eyes betray the fact that this is hurting him just as much as it hurts you.

“But you’re going to learn one day that there are some things worth fighting for. When you do, I hope you’ll find me.”

Then he’s gone, and you give yourself up to the pain.

 

***

 

The date is October 17, 2009, and you’re curled up in a pathetic ball in the backseat of the Impala while Sam drives you off to God knows where.

You’re unaware of the passage of time, or the change in city, state, region –or of anything at all that isn’t the ache in your heart or the despair in your bones.

Sammy doesn’t say a word, but he does pick up beef jerky and _Busty Asian Beauties_ for you at the next gas mart and you smile for the first time in a long time.  
  


 

***

The date is December 21, 2009, and you’re standing in a pool of blood two inches deep.

That should be disconcerting, you think, but with everything else that’s happened, you can’t really find it in yourself to care.

Sam is standing by your side, wounded but alive, and you nearly drop to your knees to thank god for that – it’s all you’ve ever really wanted, after all.

Keeping Sammy safe has been your job since day one and if you had failed, well… you just couldn’t really recover from that. Especially since there was no crossroads demon in the world that would make a deal with you now.

But then you see a familiar figure approaching from the right and think to yourself, _maybe not the_ only _thing I’ve ever wanted._

It’s been one month and sixteen days since you last saw him, and you think you might understand now what he was saying about how some fights are worth fighting.

“Sam, could you- do you mind, I mean..”  
  
You don’t know how to ask Sam to leave because on one hand, you’re afraid to let him out of your sight, still living in the fear that’s enveloped your world ever since Lilith made Sam _numero uno_ on her personal hit list, but on the other hand, you’re afraid that if you talk to _him_ , you’ll just lose it, and you never could stand letting Sammy see you cry.

Sam smiles at you, giving your shoulder a squeeze and saying, “Good luck,” before he walks away. You wonder if he knows that you’ll need a hell of a lot more than luck to make it through this, but you stay silent. He’s got enough problems to deal with just now.

You turn to your right and see the man, the _Angel,_ that you’ve been dreaming about for God knows how long.

“Castiel,” you whisper, and it comes out more like a devotion, a prayer even, than a greeting. But you’re not afraid – you think that he’ll understand.

And he does, because a second later you’re wrapped in his arms for a bone-crushing hug that lasts only for a moment, but it’s long enough.

“I am so glad to see you’ve made it,” he says, simply, “I didn’t think any of us were going to for a while there.”

And he’s not wrong – the battle was long, hard, and came completely out of the blue. You had thought, and the Angels had thought so too, that Lilith would stick to her usual, dramatic style and stage some elaborate scene for the last fight.

But then two days ago you were on a run-of-the-mill salt and burn when Bobby called you, frantically yelling that something “really motherfuckin’ huge” was going down in Last Chance, Washington – a little, insignificant town by the Pacific Ocean that’s barely a dot on the map.

You drove through the night and thanked God that your job was close because when you arrived in Last Chance the first thing you saw was that the water in the well had turned red with blood.

The sky was crackling with lightning and it was raining, hailing, sleeting.  The weather was just as erratic as the winds that alternately gusted through at enormous speeds and went still seconds later.

So you fought, for hours or days you weren’t sure because time passes differently during times like that.

You had been cut, punched, kicked, nearly killed countless times, but came out alive in the end.

And then it all just stopped.

Just as out-of-the-blue as the battle itself, and you knew, just _knew_ that it was all over. One way or another, the fighting was done.

And then, when you looked around and saw only Angels standing before you instead of demons and devils and filth, you dropped to your knees and sobbed.

It was over, over, _over._ You didn’t know how and you didn’t know who did the deed, didn’t really care about that anyways, but what you did know was that Lilith was dead. And that meant that now you could find _him_ and tell him all the things you’ve been wanting to say since the motel door swung shut behind him more than a month ago.

When Sam tugged on your arm, pulling you up into an embrace, you were unashamed for once to cling to him. It felt like it was the moment your life had been heading for ever since you were four years old and saw fire, smelt flame and burning flesh.

But now Castiel’s here, standing beside you, and you think that maybe it wasn’t a battle your life was heading for, but this Angel instead – this Angel and everything that he is, was, and ever will be.

You don’t say anything at first, just look at him.

It’s he that makes the first move in the end, lifting his hand to trace your face, your lips, with the softest of touches.

It feels like what you think Heaven must be like – calm and soothing, but full of passion at the same time.

And that’s when you know what you’re going to ask him, the question that will mean everything.

“Can it happen?” you ask, and don’t even need to elaborate because you know that he knows what you’re talking about, too, “Can you even do it? Would God let you to stay?”

“No,” he says, simply. “Angels reside in Heaven, not Earth. That’s the way of the world.”

Your heart is racing and blood pounding and you feel weak in the knees from the hurt and the pain and the loss of everything that might have been.

But he moves closer to you then, fluid with a grace that defies his human body and stature, grasping your shoulder and lifting your chin with one trembling finger. His voice is soft now, edges worn away, as he whispers, “ _Dean_.”

Your eyes flutter closed at that, at the way he infuses just one word – just your _name_ – with the warmth and affection that you always used to associate with him.

“I will leave soon, Dean. I will leave and go back to Heaven where I belong. And you,” he says, with a small smile that pinches the corners of his eyes ever so slightly, “You will stay here where you belong. You will live a long, happy life. Even if Lilith is dead and the devil cowed for now, there are still shadows out there. There are still people to be saved, people that you, and Sam, will save.”

Your throat clenches tighter, tighter, _tighter_ , as he tells you this, as he dooms you to a life without him. There’s a prickling behind your eyes that means only one thing and you don’t even try to mask the pain anymore – Castiel deserves that much, at least. He deserves to know how much he’s changed your life and how much he means to you, will continue to mean something even after he’s gone.

“The road will be long, of course, and it won’t be easy. But you’ve never really taken the easy path, have you, Dean?” his smile is tinged with a bittersweet air now, but his voice is steady. “But I promise you that no harm will come to pass to you or your brother. We Angels owe you that and more, a thousand times over, for all that you have done. And if you happen to find someone along the way then… good. You’ve got good people surrounding you, Dean – Sam, Bobby, Ellen, Jo; they’d all lay their life down for you. But you can never have too many people loving you, so please don’t pass up a chance for love on my account.”

You can’t believe he’s saying this. It feels so unreal, so _surreal_ , to imagine that this is going to be over before it ever really got the chance to begin. That this Angel who has been in your life for one year, three months, and three days is leaving soon. That he won’t be popping into your motel room without warning, scaring the shit out of you but all the while putting together the pieces of your heart that’s been breaking since you were four years old.

Maybe _this_ is where it’s been leading to all along. And despite the pain and the hurt and the heartbreak, you think that you just might be okay with that.

“And when your time comes, when you and Sam are old, wrinkly bastards probably scaring off all the neighborhood kids,” he laughs a little at that, and you think it might just be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard, “you will go in peace. And Dean, when you die, you must not fear what will come, because I promise you… there is a place in Heaven for your soul.”

You’re dizzy, feeling as if all the blood rushed from your veins, and you sway a little before Castiel grasps your shoulders tighter.  
  
You can’t believe what he’s saying, don’t understand at all.

“But I… All these things I’ve done, all those souls that I tortured,” and without warning their faces flash before your eyes, all different yet the same in the way their features are contorted with pain. Twisted with the agony that _you_ inflicted on them.

“Dean,” his voice feels like a caress, the only thing keeping you grounded as you fight to ward off the nightmare that was Hell, “You were in Hell. You were tortured by the most evil, most vile creatures, and you refused them for forty years – _forty_ years. That’s a miracle, beyond incredible. And even then, when you finally gave in, you hated it. You feel guilt about what happened, Dean, and God knows it. And what about all the people you’ve saved here on Earth? You didn’t think you’d be rewarded for that?”

“I make a living on credit card scams, Castiel. I’ve impersonated FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, and everything else under the sun. I break into people’s homes. Hell, I’ve _killed_ people before. Many times,” and you say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world because, well, it is.

How can someone like you be worthy of eternal bliss in Heaven?  
  
No, that place should be kept clean and pure for people like Mary, Sam, and _Castiel_. People who _deserve_ it. Your presence would just contaminate it, take something beautiful and turn it foul and polluted.

“Let me ask you something,” he says, “The people you killed? Did they deserve it? By taking their life were you preventing them from taking another man’s life?”

And just like that, you see nameless faces before your eyes yet again. None of them exactly the same, but they all share one thing in common – they were monsters.

“Yes,” Castiel whispers, and the word carries forgiveness and absolution that makes your heart feel lighter, “God can forgive those who take life justly, Dean, and you never killed when you should have spared. You must forgive yourself for at least that.”

You don’t know if you can, if you’re even capable of doing it, but if Castiel wants you to then you’ll sure as hell try.

“And Dean?” he asks, moving even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your face. His hands run up your arms, over your shoulders, and he grasps your head so that his fingers are entwined with your hair. “You must not despair when I leave because we _will_ be together again someday. I tell you now that you have a place in Heaven… and where did I say I will be, Dean?”

Your eyes slowly shut because now, now you realize why Castiel is so calm. Now you realize how he can stand before you without quaking at the thought of these being your last moments together.

Because you _will_ be together again someday.

And yeah, you might have to wait for your lifetime to pass to get up there, but you think that when your hour comes and you close your eyes for the last time, waking up to Castiel will be more than worth the wait.

In the meantime you’ve got Sam, you’ve got Bobby, and you’ve got a hell of a lot of people still left to save.

That brings a smile to your face, and Castiel’s answering one makes that final piece of your heart move back into place.

His lips touch yours in a chaste kiss that promises eternity together and then he steps back from you.

“Goodbye, Dean,” he says, “I’ll stand at the gates and watch for you.”

Your eyes close for just a moment, trying to stop the tears, and when you open them again, Castiel is gone.

A gentle breeze rolls by, carrying with it the fresh smell of the ocean that settles around you in a comforting cloud.

You know he’s telling you that he’s still here, will always be here, but you didn’t need him to tell you that – you bring your hand up to your arm where he marked you on that fateful day in Hell, and you think that you’ve always been his, even when you didn’t know it yet.

With a deep breath, you turn around to do what Castiel told you – live your life and save the lives of others.

You’ve got work to do.

 


End file.
